


Be Fruitful and Multiply

by catie_writes_things



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azulon's A+ parenting, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Fire Nation Royal Family, One Shot Collection, Ozai and Ursa have lots of kids AU, Ozai's A+ Parenting, Siblings, Ursa doesn't believe in birth control, blame the tumblr anons for this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/pseuds/catie_writes_things
Summary: Azulon's first wife was barren. His second wife provided him with two healthy sons, and three daughters who all died young.Iroh's wife could only give him one child.Ozai and Ursa do not have any such problems.(Or, the Urzai and Their Pack of Brats AU)
Relationships: Azula & Ozai & Ursa & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai/Ursa (Avatar)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 100





	1. Happy Announcements

The announcement that Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa were expecting their first child was met with general good will throughout the Fire Nation. Crown Prince Iroh had only the one son, and his wife was not in good health, so another heir was not expected from him. Ozai’s child would provide security to the royal line, and security for the royal line was security for the nation as a whole.

So Prince Zuko’s birth was an occasion of joy for the people. Still, it was widely expected that Iroh and Lu Ten would succeed to the throne in due course, and Zuko’s role would only be that of an understudy, like his father.

* * *

Two years later, when news came that Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa were expecting again, this was met with similar feelings. How nice for the little Prince Zuko, to have a younger brother or sister. How fortunate for Fire Lord Azulon, to have yet another heir - fifth in line, but one never did know.

When word came some months later of the birth of Princess Azula, the people’s rejoicing was somewhat tempered with melancholy, for they could not forget how all of Fire Lord Azulon’s daughters had died so young. What a tragedy. But now there was hope for this new princess.

* * *

It was the third announcement that first raised a few eyebrows, coming so soon on the heels of Princess Azula’s arrival. Peasant women might give birth twice in one year, but was such a thing really fitting of Princess Ursa’s royal dignity? The cold-hearted disapproved, while the more impish tongues began wagging with speculation about the royal marriage, and whether it was Ozai or Ursa who was the more insatiable of the two.

Prince Azar was born three weeks shy of Princess Azula’s first birthday, and the people dutifully rejoiced again, though there was a wry cant to the celebrations this time, a wink and a nudge that made an inside joke of the whole thing.

* * *

There was a three year respite before the fourth announcement, a fact which could not help but be remarked upon now. And even more eyebrows were raised this time. “Really? Another one?” seemed to be the general sentiment. There was scarcely any pretense of the need for more heirs at this point - Prince Lu Ten was a young man coming of age in good health, expected to marry in a few years’ time, and already had three younger cousins.

So if the celebrations for the birth of Prince Shinzo were less enthusiastic than those for his older siblings, it was not out of any lack of patriotism, but merely the feeling that it was all a bit redundant. Still, a holiday was a holiday, and among the common people no one really complained.

* * *

The fifth announcement, two years later, came with an official statement from Fire Lord Azulon that Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa had gone above and beyond the call of duty in providing the Fire Nation with sons and a daughter who would one day aid in her continuing mission to spread her greatness throughout the world. It was a rebuke to anyone among the people who might speak ill of the royal couple’s fecundity, of course, and some of the nobles who had deliberately contented themselves with one or two children took it as a slight against them as well. But others saw it as a backhanded compliment to Prince Ozai himself, officially a commendation but in reality a stern warning from his father - enough already.

Naturally, this time Princess Ursa gave birth to twins - Prince Raizu and Prince Denzu.

* * *

The twin princes were two years old, and speculation had begun as to whether there would be another happy announcement soon, or whether Ozai had heeded his father’s warning. It did in fact turn out to be an eventful year for the royal family, but of a rather different sort.

First there was the shock of the untimely death of Prince Lu Ten, followed closely by the blow of Prince Iroh’s retreat from Ba Sing Se, the bitter failure of a campaign for which so many families had sacrificed their sons and daughters. It was not long after that double loss that Fire Lord Azulon himself was taken from them - and Prince Ozai unexpectedly took the throne in his stead.

Amidst all this upheaval, the quiet disappearance of Princess Ursa could almost have gone unnoticed, except that in the years that followed, there were no more happy announcements after all.


	2. Best Laid Plans

Ozai liked his office.

It was quiet, for one thing. The children were not allowed in here, servants would not dare enter unless summoned - or sent by his father to fetch him, though that was a rare occurrence. When he needed peace and solitude, his office was always a place where he could find it.

It was also where he felt most accomplished. True, he was unmatched in his prowess as a firebender, but so long as the Fire Lord kept him far from any battlefield, the honor those skills won him was hollow. It was Iroh who would win the glory of victory in the conquest of Ba Sing Se, and any duels or staged matches Ozai won would be paltry feats by comparison. But so long as Iroh remained far from court, he was of little use to their father in the day-to-day governance of their nation - and on that matter, the Fire Lord did deign to delegate responsibility to his younger son as he himself grew older.

Responsibility, if not honor.

Still, in reviewing budget plans, taking careful notes on proposed laws, and writing summary memos on all sorts of issues for his father to read - agricultural production, tax revenue, crime rates, military officers up for promotion and ministers due to retire - Ozai felt he had learned much of the trade of being Fire Lord. Between that and his obviously superior firebending skills, it only remained to convince his father, somehow, to see that he was the worthier heir, and not Iroh.

So yes, Ozai liked the quiet, productive time he spent in his office. When it  _ was _ quiet and productive.

* * *

Ursa did not usually sleep so late into the morning.

She did not feel the need to rise at the crack of dawn like her firebending husband - or any of their firebending children - but she still liked to get an early start to the day. She usually had breakfast with Ozai and the children after he had finished his morning meditation and firebending practice, then spent some time with just the children when Ozai went to work in his office, until the older ones started their lessons for the day with their various tutors and the younger ones were left in the care of the governesses in the nursery.

But this morning, when Ursa reluctantly pried her eyes open, she knew it was already well past breakfast time.

She had good reason to be tired, so she wasn’t surprised. Still, she felt a little annoyed with herself as she got out of bed and dressed. The maid who helped her said nothing, as a good servant should, but Ursa imagined the judgement behind her impassive expression anyway.

She ate alone, without much appetite, and then inquired after the rest of her family. Ozai was already at work, office door firmly shut, which Ursa knew meant he would not emerge at least until noon. The older children had just gone to their lessons. That left only the little ones in the nursery, but Ursa decided she would stop in to see them, at least, before lunch. 

She found Shinzo and Denzu in the midst of a squabble which both Li and Lo were doing their best to break up. Nothing the two elderly governesses said could have quite the effect of their mother’s unexpected appearance, however, and both boys were soon sobbing their grievances into her lap - Shinzo had taken Denzu’s favorite toy, Denzu had pinched Shinzo in retaliation, and each was now convinced of the other’s utter wickedness.

Ursa consoled both boys, and gave them both a stern admonition that brothers ought to learn how to share with each other. “And speaking of brothers,” she said, squeezing Denzu a little closer as the last of his hiccoughing sobs died down. “Where’s Raizu?”

Denzu said nothing. Shinzo blinked in surprise, looked around, and then shrugged. Raizu hadn’t been part of their little disagreement, and neither of the little boys had cared for anything beyond that in the moment.

But Li and Lo were also looking around the nursery in alarm.

* * *

Ozai usually got more work done in the morning. 

He’d started out alright, rising from sleep at his usual time for meditation at dawn, followed by firebending practice. Ursa had still been sleeping soundly when he left her in his bed, but that was her usual way - and given how little sleep either of them had gotten, hardly surprising. Ozai, on the other hand, had always prided himself on being able to stick to his demanding schedule regardless of his wife’s whims.

When she hadn’t shown up for breakfast, he’d resented it slightly. Partly because it left him alone in the face of the chatter of six children - Azar had kept going on about some modifications he had made to his hunting bow, Shinzo and Azula had engaged in a boasting match about their respective firebending abilities which Zuko had tried pathetically to engage in, one of the twins had made a mess of his food, and the other had kept asking after his mother in his soft baby voice. But partly Ozai had also been resentful because he was beginning to feel his own exhaustion after his rigorous morning firebending regime. That, too, he blamed on her.

So when he had sent the children off to their governesses and shut himself in his office after breakfast, it had been even more of a respite than usual. Yet he’d found himself yawning through his paperwork, losing track of his place as he read through the reports on his desk, and struggling to write a coherent sentence in his memos. There was simply no denying it - he was tired.

He called for one of his aides and ordered a pot of strong black tea to be brought to him. It helped clear his head, and he returned to his work with renewed focus - only for another distraction to unexpectedly present itself. Something - or  _ someone _ \- was tugging at his robes as if trying to climb up onto his lap.

Abruptly dropping the scroll in his hands and pushing back his chair, Ozai looked under his desk with a scowl. Sure enough, there was one of the twins - the quiet one, not the messy eater. Denzu? Raizu? Why on earth had he let Ursa give them such similar names? Either way, he was looking up at Ozai with wide eyes and a solemn little pout, his chubby little hands still stretched out towards him.

Ozai reached under the desk to drag the boy out, banged the back of his own head on the top of the desk in the process and bit back an oath that Ursa would certainly  _ not _ approve of him saying in front of one of the children, then failed to stifle an even stronger oath when he saw that the teacup on his desk had spilled all over the scroll he had been reading.

This was Ursa’s fault, all of it, and so it was her name that he shouted in frustration as he attempted to one-handedly rescue the important government document from his spilled tea.

* * *

Ursa had left Shinzo and Denzu in the nursery with Li and Lo, and begun her search. Zuko and Azula were with their firebending masters. Azar was with his archery instructor. None of them had seen Raizu. Ursa had checked all the family apartments, the kitchens, the gardens, every one of Raizu’s usual hiding places, and he had not turned up. Now, she was beginning to worry.

Her anxiety only increased when one of her husband’s personal aides came running towards her. “Princess Ursa,” the young man greeted her with a hasty bow. “Prince Ozai...requests your presence…” He was short of breath and clearly rattled, which suggested to Ursa that Ozai had not put the request quite so nicely. “In his office…” the young man added.

Ursa took one last cursory look around the garden, and then set off for Ozai’s office, not running as the servant had, but at a nice brisk pace nonetheless. Whatever her husband wanted, he would have to let it wait, and help her look for their son first.

But when she marched past the rest of Ozai’s nervous aides and let herself into his office, her search came to an end - for there was Raizu. Ozai had a firm grasp on the back of his shirt and was holding him at arm’s length.

_ “Your _ son…” he began angrily.

But Ursa didn’t let him finish. “You found him!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to scoop the little boy into her arms. Ozai quickly let him go. “It was naughty of you to run off like that, Raizu,” Ursa scolded as she hugged him. “Mama was worried.”

“Whichever one he is,” Ozai said sullenly, waving a tea-stained scroll at her, “get him out of here before he does any more damage.”

Ursa frowned at her husband’s attitude - but looking him over and taking in his beleaguered appearance, her heart softened a little. He did hate to be disturbed when he was working, which was why the children were not allowed in his office. And knowing him, he must have pushed himself to stick to his strict morning schedule in spite of how tired he clearly was, and was now feeling the consequences.

“Alright, Raizu,” Ursa said, still looking her husband in the eye pointedly. “Let’s leave Daddy in peace now.”

The boy did not protest as she brought him back to the nursery - Raizu hardly ever complained or fussed, so unusual for a child of his age. Denzu and Shinzo were happy to see that their brother had been found, and Li and Lo relieved that no harm had come to their wayward charge. The elderly governesses offered Ursa profuse apologies for having lost track of the little prince, but Ursa forgave them easily since all had ended well. They had had their hands full with the other two, after all.

It wasn’t like Ursa didn’t realize just how much of a handful her children could be.

* * *

Ursa had chosen to throw her own schedule to the wind and spend the rest of the day with the children, while Ozai had stubbornly stuck to his, which meant he had not seen her again until the whole family had dinner together. This went better than breakfast, with Ursa managing to keep the messy twin in line - Ozai was fairly certain now that one was Denzu - and effortlessly directing the older children’s conversation so that they did not all clamor for his attention at once.

After dinner she had put the children to bed, and Ozai himself had retired not long after - it had been a long day, and he was determined to be up at dawn again tomorrow better rested. But just as he was beginning to drift off to sleep, he heard the sound of a door being gently opened and shut, and then felt his wife slip into his bed beside him.

“Ursa,” he said firmly as she pressed herself close to his side. “I am losing patience with you.”

“That’s alright,” Ursa replied coquettishly. “I won’t keep you up late this time.” But the kiss she placed at the base of his neck suggested she had other plans. 

With a sigh of frustration, Ozai shifted and wrapped his arms around her, mostly to keep her still and forestall any other devious ideas she might have. “I mean it,” he insisted in a low voice. “We are neither of us as young as we used to be, and frankly it is.... _ unseemly _ in a woman of your age…”

“That wasn’t what you said last night,” Ursa whispered back without a hint of shame, but Ozai studiously ignored her and went on.

“...and a mother of six children already, no less…”

“Seven,” Ursa corrected him in an even softer voice.

“A mother of seven children,” Ozai amended. “And…” His tirade trailed off into silence as he did a quick mental count. Zuko, Azula, Azar, Shinzo, and the twins. No, that was definitely six. Which meant…

Ozai released Ursa from his arms and rolled away from her with a tired groan. “Again?”

“Again,” Ursa confirmed, sidling back up to him and resting her head on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be so surprised, my love. You know very well what causes it.”

Ozai pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. “I’m too old for this,” he complained - though whether this complaint was addressed more to her or to Agni himself he could not say.

Either way, it was Ursa who laughed at him. “You’re far younger than  _ your _ father was when he had you,” she pointed out.

“That’s different,” Ozai muttered irritably. And it  _ was _ different. His father had only had one son, with two daughters dead already and the third weak and sickly, when Ozai had come around. His own birth had been  _ necessary. _ He and Ursa, on the other hand, had five healthy firebending children, plus the one nonbender who seemed unlikely to die anytime soon, either. And the Fire Lord had already warned him, last time…

“We don’t have to tell the Fire Lord just yet,” Ursa said as if reading his mind. She wrapped one arm over his waist, a gesture more comforting than sensual.

Ozai sighed again. “He will find out eventually.” And he would be less than pleased, of that Ozai was certain, and once again it was Ursa’s fault…

“Ozai,” Ursa’s gentle voice broke through his dark train of thought. “Are you happy?”

“No,” Ozai replied honestly.

“That’s alright,” Ursa said, holding him more tightly. “I understand.” And Ozai knew she did, for he had told her all about what the Fire Lord had said the last time she was pregnant, the unsubtle insinuations he had made about how other couples kept from “breeding like rabaroos”. They had argued about it, and Ursa had won, as she always did on these matters. “You’re afraid.”

“I am not afraid of my father,” Ozai insisted. And in the darkness, where he didn’t have to look her in the eye, he could almost convince himself Ursa would believe it.

At any rate, she did not argue, but merely gave a noncommittal hum in reply. “I did promise not to keep you up late,” she said, shifting slightly to make herself more comfortable. “Let’s not worry about it any more tonight.”

Ozai agreed, and with a few more whispered words of goodnight, they lapsed into silence. Soon Ursa’s even breathing told him that she had indeed fallen asleep, but in spite of his own exhaustion, Ozai found himself too anxious now to put his mind at rest.

Seven children, he thought. The situation was becoming desperate. Action would have to be taken, somehow, before the Fire Lord learned of this. He would have to do something soon, to increase his standing in his father’s eyes, if he hoped to avoid his wrath for this blatant failure - worse, this blatant disobedience.

Thus he passed yet another restless night, thanks once again to his wife.


	3. The Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For full clarity, this chapter takes place two years prior to the previous one.

Ozai had already had this conversation with his father four times before, but he had never quite dreaded it like he did this time.

The Fire Lord had granted his request for a private audience, but insisted on receiving him in the throne room, with the wall of flames lit between them and all the other attendant formalities. Ozai had not been surprised - his father seldom spoke to him in any informal setting unless Iroh was also present, and Iroh was too busy preparing for his upcoming campaign in the Earth Kingdom, on which his own son would be accompanying him for the first time, to bother with such a matter as this. Not that Ozai wanted his brother to be here for this conversation.

To be honest, Ozai did not want to  _ have _ this conversation at all. But there was no getting out of it now, and so he bowed before the throne and hoped for the best.

“Prince Ozai,” his father greeted him coolly as Ozai lifted his forehead from the floor. “You had something important to discuss with me?” He did not bid Ozai to rise, and so he remained kneeling.

“Yes, Father,” Ozai replied. The Fire Lord had no patience for beating around the bush, so Ozai got straight to the point. “I am pleased to inform you that Princess Ursa is with child again.”

Behind the flickering wall of flames, his father’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” he asked, leaning forward. “And are you truly  _ pleased _ with this development?”

Ozai sat up a little straighter. “Our children are the future of the Fire Nation,” he recited, a practiced speech taken almost word for word from the literature that the ministry of education sent out to all the provinces. He would know, for he had helped to write it. “They will spread Agni’s civilizing light throughout the world…”

“Do not quote my own propaganda to me,” the Fire Lord cut him off, pointing one finger in a stern warning. “That is all well and good for the commoners who must fill out the ranks of our armies. But no such contribution was asked of you.”

Ozai nodded in acknowledgement of this point, and tried a slightly different tactic. “Should the royal family not lead by example?”

His father laughed at this, but it was a mirthless sound which told Ozai it had been a misstep. “Is that what you think?” the Fire Lord asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. “That you are a better example to our people than Prince Iroh? Or myself?”

“Of course not,” Ozai hastily replied, giving an apologetic half bow. “Did you not have five children of your own, Father?”

“Two of whom were dead, and a third well on her way to following them, by the time the fifth was born,” his father reminded him, as if Ozai could forget what had happened to them. Then, lest there was any doubt as to his intended meaning, he added, “Had your sisters lived, you would not be here, Prince Ozai.”

And were he not here, Fire Lady Ilah still would be. Ozai had heard all this before. He scowled at the floor in front of him, hands clenched into fists on his knees, and said nothing.

Unexpectedly, the Fire Lord got to his feet, extinguished the wall of flames, and came down from the throne to stand in front of Ozai. “I thought I had made it clear after the last one,” he said in a more even tone, “that you and your wife had sufficiently fulfilled your duty.” He folded his hands in the wide sleeves of his robes, looking down at his son. “I am beginning to wonder if there were deficiencies in your education on these matters.”

Ozai fought to maintain his composure. His father had largely entrusted that portion of his “education” to Iroh, and Iroh’s tutelage had consisted of wildly inappropriate suggestions which Ozai had resisted at every turn. But he was hardly naive. “No, Father,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Because none of the other noble couples of the court are breeding like rabaroos,” his father went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “There are means of controlling it. If they are all aware of them, then why aren’t you?”

Ozai glanced away, seething. This was the part of the conversation he had been most dreading, for he knew that the true answer to that question would be one the Fire Lord would find unacceptable. So Ozai steeled his nerve and did something he had almost never done before: he lied to his father, at least by implication.

“None of those methods are foolproof,” he said with all the calm he could muster.

The Fire Lord scoffed. “And you are the fool that proves it, I suppose.”

Ozai did not trust himself to speak at that moment. Fortunately, after a brief strained silence, his father spoke again, evidently not caring that Ozai had nothing to say for himself. “The fourth was understandable, since the third was a nonbender,” he mused aloud. Then his voice grew stern again. “Look at me, Prince Ozai.”

Ozai obediently raised his eyes and met his father’s unforgiving gaze.

“Five is quite  _ more _ than sufficient,” the Fire Lord said slowly, enunciating each word. “There will be no more after this - for your wife’s sake if not your own. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father,” Ozai replied, bowing again. And whether it was convincing enough, or his father was just tired of this conversation, after that he was promptly dismissed.

* * *

“How did the Fire Lord take the news?” Ursa asked him later that evening.

They were alone in her apartments. Ursa had changed into her nightclothes, and beneath the tied sash of her dressing gown the curve of her stomach was already starting to show, though she was still not very far along. Ozai had put off telling his father as long as he reasonably could have.

“He is displeased with us,” Ozai answered bluntly.

Ursa gave an annoyed huff, but didn’t look up from her embroidery. “I don’t see why he has any cause to be,” she said primly, pushing her needle down through the fabric.

“An excessive number of heirs can cause problems,” Ozai replied without much feeling, looking down at the dark wine in the goblet he held in one hand. It was a lesson that had been drilled into him by his history tutors when he was a boy, a lesson he had evidently not learned well enough for his father’s liking. 

Ursa seemed even more unconvinced than he was. “Lu Ten will be Fire Lord someday,” she said firmly, tugging on the red thread she was working with to pull her stitches tight. “He will have children of his own, and one of them will succeed him.” She glanced up from her needlework at last, giving Ozai a pointed look. “The likelihood of any of our children ever fighting each other for the throne seems rather slim, doesn’t it?”

Ozai frowned, but did not voice any disagreement. Privately, he had his own hopes for the future of the throne, but it would only upset Ursa to say anything about that now. And on the face of it, he could not dispute what she had said. “My father still seems to think it’s not worth the risk,” he said instead.

Ursa’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Your father…”

“Is the Fire Lord,” Ozai cut her off. “His word is law.”

Ursa set her embroidery hoop aside on the sofa. “There is a higher law even than the word of the Fire Lord.”

Ozai sighed, leaning his head against the back of his chair. “Not this again.” He had humored her in many of her old-fashioned ideas all these years, but this was one point on which he had never acquiesced to her. And he was not about to do so now. “I don’t need another of your lectures.”

“Fine,” Ursa replied, folding her arms. “But how many children we are blessed with is not your father’s decision.”

“Perhaps not,” Ozai allowed with a grimace, recalling his earlier conversation. “But perhaps it is ours.” And then he told her everything the Fire Lord had said.

Ursa stared at him in shock. “No,” she said sharply, in answer to the implied question. “Absolutely not.” She got to her feet, pacing the room. “That  _ he _ would suggest such a thing is no surprise, but I can’t believe  _ you _ would ever think for a minute that I…”

“Would it really be such a crime?” Ozai asked, setting aside his wine goblet and getting to his feet as well. “Is five children not enough?”

Ursa rounded on him angrily. “It is not a question of  _ enough!”  _ Her hands were balled into fists now, shaking. “That is not how you think of children! And as for those  _ methods  _ the rest of the court supposedly knows so much about, they are disgusting, for one thing, and they would make a complete mockery of our marriage, for another…”

Ozai strode across the room, took hold of her hands, and silenced her in the best way he knew how - by covering her lips with his own. She stiffened in surprise at first, struggled against him briefly in the final throes of her anger, but then relaxed into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. When he finally pulled away, she said no more.

“I understand your feelings about this,” Ozai said in a low voice, cupping her chin with one hand. “And I have always respected them. This is not an immediate issue at present, but…” She opened her mouth to speak again, and he shifted his hand, pressing one finger to her lips to close them. “The Fire Lord has made his will clear. Neither you nor I can go against that.”

He let his hand fall away from her face. Ursa did not even attempt to speak this time, but in the firm set of her mouth and the fire in her eyes, he read her answer plainly enough:  _ You cannot, _ she was thinking.  _ I can. _

Ozai was momentarily conscious of a distinct fear that indeed she would. But then she was kissing him again, and the argument was soon forgotten for the time being.

* * *

Ozai was not with Ursa when she informed the children, but when he saw her at lunch afterwards he knew right away from her mood that it had gone much better than his conversation with his father.

“Zuko and Azar are very excited,” Ursa said happily between delicate bites of her food - plain rice, steamed vegetables, and unseasoned komodo chicken, for strong flavors did not agree with her when she was pregnant. “I don’t know that Shinzo really understood,” she added more thoughtfully. Ozai was hardly surprised at this, for Shinzo was a mere two years old, and did not understand most things. “But,” Ursa went on, smiling again, “he could tell his brothers were happy, so he was happy, too.”

“What about Azula?” Ozai asked, picking at his own more flavorful food. 

Ursa frowned. “She was...less enthusiastic,” she admitted, then took a careful sip of her tea. “She offered her congratulations, actually. Very formal and polite.”

Ozai chuckled. “That means she’s furious,” he explained. How strange it was, that their daughter was the only one of their children his wife did not seem to understand - and the only one that Ozai ever felt he did.

Ursa rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sure she’ll come around. She’s got two younger brothers already, it’s not like this is a new concept to her.”

Ozai gave a thoughtful hum, already planning to have his own talk with Azula later. “Perhaps she doesn’t like the idea  _ because _ she has two younger brothers already.”

Ursa gave him a warning look, but did not directly address what he was insinuating. “It might be a younger sister this time,” she said instead. Then, with a shrug, she added, “It might even be two.”

Ozai suddenly found himself choking on a crab dumpling. Ursa seemed unconcerned about his plight, and when his coughing finally dislodged the food from his windpipe, she merely raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” was all he managed to rasp out.

“I spoke to my midwife,” Ursa explained. “She thinks it might be twins this time, based on how soon I started showing.”

Ozai breathed a sigh of relief. Ursa put great faith in her midwife’s expertise, but the woman was merely a rustic practitioner of ancient superstitions whom the royal physicians tolerated to appease their princess. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” he replied evenly, regaining his composure. 

Ursa smiled knowingly. “She also thinks I’m in fine health, with several more good childbearing years ahead of me.” She lifted a morsel of rice to her mouth, chewed carefully, and swallowed. Ozai did not respond. “Isn’t that good news?” she prompted.

They would have to wait and see about that as well, Ozai thought. But aloud he only said, “I certainly hope you will not suffer any complications.” Which was also the truth. He knew well enough that childbearing could be a dangerous business - it had claimed the life of his own mother, as he had so often been reminded.

But Ursa remained cheerful and confident, and not without good reason, for they both knew all of her previous pregnancies had been as uncomplicated as could be. They had truly been blessed indeed.

* * *

“But why do we need another stupid baby?” Azula asked him later. He had taken her aside for a private firebending lesson that afternoon, as he sometimes did, for she was progressing at a far more rapid pace than the tutor charged with instructing her and Zuko was willing to advance with her. Ozai intended to find her a new master soon, one who would not hold her back, and could focus on helping her achieve her potential without having to worry about her less gifted older brother.

“Watch your language,” he scolded reflexively. “And your stance.”

Azula adjusted her feet so her stance was almost flawless. “But why?” she repeated.

“That is none of your concern,” Ozai replied, folding his arms. It was certainly not a conversation he was prepared to have with his six-year-old daughter. “Now, the first form again.”

Azula blew on her neatly trimmed bangs with a huff, but went through the first form as she had been told. Like her opening stance, it was almost perfect, but not quite. “That was not right,” Ozai pointed out when she had finished. “Can you tell me why?”

Azula thought for a moment, bouncing on the balls of her feet and swinging her arms. “My knees were too stiff,” she said at last.

“Correct,” Ozai said with a nod. “Do it again.”

Azula resumed the opening stance of the form, adjusted her feet once more, and then bent her knees, lowering her center of gravity just slightly. This time, when she went through the form, there were no mistakes.

“Better,” Ozai said, and Azula grinned in triumph. “That is what I expect from you every time we drill this form from now on.”

Azula nodded, and Ozai knew she would make sure to meet that expectation.

They went through a few more of the basic forms, perfecting her technique on each of them in turn, and then Ozai showed her a few more intermediate moves to begin practicing - whether her tutor liked it or not. Azula absorbed all his instruction eagerly, further cementing Ozai’s opinion that her current teacher was only doing her a disservice by refusing to let her advance beyond Zuko. They ended their lesson with some cooldown stretches, followed by brief meditation - Azula’s least favorite part.

When he dismissed her back to her room to clean up and change for dinner, Azula bowed politely, but did not immediately leave the training grounds. “You’re not happy about the new baby either, are you?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye. That impertinence, Ozai thought, she got entirely from her mother.

“Your new sibling is coming whether you like it or not,” Ozai replied, dodging the question. “I suggest you reconcile yourself to that fact, and focus on the things that are within your control.”

Azula frowned, considering this answer. Ozai turned to go, trusting Azula would follow his instructions in due course. But before he made it to the edge of the training grounds, Azula called out to him again.

“Dad?” she said, her voice uncharacteristically childlike - even though she  _ was _ a child, Azula hardly ever talked like one, at least to him. Ozai halted and looked back over his shoulder to see her, wide-eyed and worrying her lower lip. “What if this one becomes a better firebender than me?”

Of course that was her concern, Ozai realized. Azula knew her worth, and would naturally be anxious to keep her position. He should have expected no less from her.

“Don’t let him,” Ozai replied. Then he walked away.

* * *

The royal physicians, some months later, confided in Prince Ozai that they shared the midwife’s suspicions that indeed Princess Ursa might be carrying twins. But they would not call it a sure thing, and so Ozai felt no need to mention this to the Fire Lord. There was no use buying trouble before its time.

When Ursa’s pains began a full month ahead of schedule, however, there was no keeping that a secret. Ozai, as usual, was forbidden from entering the birthing room - another of Ursa’s old fashioned ideas, which he had to admit at least did no harm, aside from to his nerves. But unlike with the previous births, this time the Fire Lord chose to wait it out with him in the gardens.

“Rather early, isn’t it?” his father remarked from his comfortable seat in the shade.

“Not so early,” Ozai replied, standing by the fountain and staring at the golden dragon atop it. Twins often did come early, the physicians had told him, but he was still determined not to divulge that possibility until it became a certainty.

“I hope your streak of luck hasn’t run out,” his father said with evident sarcasm. “We would hate to lose Princess Ursa to your reckless need to procreate.”

“Indeed,” Ozai agreed, feeling sickened rather than angered by the barb. The reckless need for more children was Ursa’s, of course, not his, but that was yet another thing his father did not need to know. And he had allowed himself, perhaps foolishly, to be lulled into a sense of security by her previous good fortune, and her own confidence, up until now. But suddenly he considered his father’s words seriously.

What if there was a problem? Surely, even if it was twins, and that was why the birth was coming so soon, that only presented double the opportunity for complications to arise? What would he do, what would become of him, if his own child - or children - cost him his wife?

Ozai looked over at the shade of the cherry tree where his father sat, and did not think he would like the answer to that question.

“You begin to see my point, don’t you, Prince Ozai?” his father said softly - perhaps even, Ozai would have thought if it were any other man, sympathetically. The old man did not stir from his seat, and offered no gesture of consolation, but there was an unusual warmth in his voice as he went on. “Spirits willing, all will be well. Let this be the last time you cast yourself upon their mercy in this way.”

Ozai could only nod, and turn back to the fountain. It was Ursa’s favorite.  _ Please, Agni, _ he thought impulsively, looking into the dragon’s golden eyes.  _ Let her be alright. _ And then, though he was not a praying man by habit, he added a second petition:  _ And don’t let it be twins. _

His father said no more, and so neither did Ozai. Some time later, an excited clamor of high-pitched voices alerted him to the fact that his children were running towards him through the gardens. How undignified they looked, he thought with a frown.

“Dad!” Zuko was shouting excitedly as he drew nearer, his younger siblings trailing behind him. “The midwife said we could be the ones to tell you! Mom had twins!”

So much for the power of prayer, Ozai thought.

“Twins!” Azar repeated as the children drew to a halt in front of him. “Two little brothers!” He clapped his hands in excitement.

Shinzo, who was just catching up with the older children, copied this gesture and repeated in turn, “Two!” He had understood that much, it seemed.

“And your mother?” Ozai asked.

“She’s fine, of course,” Azula replied, not as overjoyed as her brothers. “The doctors said she and the babies are all healthy.”

“How blessed you are indeed,” came the Fire Lord’s voice from the shade - once again the cold, imperious voice Ozai had known all his life. The children, noticing their grandfather there for the first time, all hastily turned and bowed - Shinzo rather clumsily, of course. The Fire Lord rose to his feet, and went on, “Twin sons, and their mother in good health. The spirits really have smiled upon your family today.” He met Ozai’s gaze pointedly, and added in a lower voice, not for the children’s ears, “All the more reason to be cautious in the future.”

With that, the Fire Lord took his leave.

* * *

“Twins,” Ozai said, looking down at the two swaddled bundles in the cradle. One was sleeping soundly, while the other wriggled like a little worm.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Ursa said tiredly from the bed where she was propped up with several pillows. Her hair was loose and her face a bit pale, but her eyes were glowing.  _ She _ was beautiful, Ozai thought. The twins, on the other hand…

“They look like babies,” Ozai replied diplomatically. Which was to say, they looked like ugly, wrinkled monkeys, as all babies did, especially newborns. Even Azula had not been a pretty child until she was several months old.

Ursa laughed at this, and leaned over, resting one hand on the edge of the cradle which had been placed close to her bed, and stroking the fine, dark hair atop each of the babies’ heads with the other. “They’re precious,” she insisted. 

The wriggly one let out a little mewling cry, and Ursa leaned further to lift him out of the cradle. Ozai hastily reached out to grasp her elbow in support. She smiled at him as she rested back against her pillows, holding the baby to her breast, and Ozai thought, for that smile, he would do anything in the world. Perhaps even defy the Fire Lord himself. 

“You see?” Ursa said softly, looking back down at the baby as she soothed him. “Aren’t they worth it?”

No, Ozai thought. Not them. Perhaps he would come to find some affection for the twins someday, but children held no interest for him until they were at least old enough to reason with, and Azar was only just at that age, in his estimation. But Ursa herself - she was worth everything, and he could deny her nothing. If it came to her will or the Fire Lord’s, he would do hers.

He didn’t answer her question. But leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Get some rest, my love.”


	4. Birds of a Feather

New servants in the palace, aware that among Prince Ozai’s many children there was indeed a pair of twins, often assumed Azula and Azar were that pair. It was an easy mistake to make, for they were nearly as close in age as brother and sister could be without being twins. And among all the children, they happened to resemble each other the most - both with amber eyes the exact shade of their mother’s, jet black hair like their father, and matching features that looked slightly harsh for a girl on Azula and slightly delicate for a boy on Azar.

Yet Azula was always quick to correct anyone who made this error, and to point out that she had been there first by almost a full year. 

Eleven months and one week, to be precise, Azar would then specify immediately afterwards.

The other reason, perhaps, that they were mistaken for twins, was that they seemed to go together as a pair so often, in spite of their differences.

Azula was the most prodigious firebender anyone could remember, and Azar was the first nonbender born into the royal family in generations. Azula was the apple of her father’s eye, while Azar, like their older brother Zuko, had a tendency to cling to their mother’s skirts. But whether because of their closeness in age, or some other affinity between them, when left to their own devices they were frequently inseparable.

But perhaps it should not have been so surprising that Azar was Azula’s favorite brother. Her two closest school friends were also nonbenders, after all.

* * *

“Like this!” Ty Lee said brightly, and then demonstrated another flawless cartwheel. “Now you try, Mai.”

Mai gave a reluctant sigh, but attempted to copy the other girl nonetheless. Her legs didn’t reach as high into the air, and she came down in a graceless crouch.

“Hmm,” Ty Lee said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Not a bad start, but maybe you should practice more handstands first.” She reached down and helped Mai to her feet.

“My turn,” Azula declared. She did a lot better than Mai - hers actually looked like a cartwheel - but she didn’t stick the landing and wobbled, off-balance. Ty Lee helpfully showed her the correct way to do it again, only for Azula to abruptly push her over once she finished. Mai and Azula both laughed, and after a moment of blinking in confusion on the ground, Ty Lee joined in.

“Alright,” Ty Lee said, springing back to her feet and dusting the grass off her clothes. “Your turn, Azar!”

Azar looked up from the feathers he was carefully trimming. His archery instructor, a retired captain of the Yu Yan archers, had him experimenting with different types of fletching - so far he had tried komodo chicken and pig hen feathers, and today he was working on the wing feathers he had talked the messenger hawk keepers into giving him. “I’m not doing cartwheels,” he said, shaking his head.

“Aw, you have to at least try,” Ty Lee argued, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, we all did it,” Mai added, though she didn’t sound as enthusiastic. She never did.

“What’s the matter?” Azula taunted. “Are you afraid you’re not good enough?”

Azar rolled his eyes at his sister. “If I do it wrong, you’ll just laugh at me,” he reasoned, pointing the feather in his hand in one direction. Then pointing the opposite direction with it, he went on, “If I do it right, you’ll just knock me down.”

Ty Lee and Mai glanced at each other, and both of them shrugged, as if to say he had a point.

“I promise,” Azula said solemnly, placing one hand over her heart. “If you do it right, I will not knock you down.”

Well, that was a lie, Azar thought. Still, Azula was being persistent. And when she got an idea in her head, there was usually no talking her out of it.

“Okay, fine,” Azar relented, setting down the feather and getting to his feet. He took a few steps away from his work, into the same broad stretch of grass where the girls had done their cartwheels a moment ago.

He could flub it, he thought. If he just fell over on purpose, the girls would laugh and that would be the end of it. He might even genuinely fall - he wasn’t  _ that _ good at cartwheels. But if he deliberately messed up, and Azula figured it out, she’d just be mad at him. And she was already in the start of one of her  _ moods. _

So he did the cartwheel as best he could - nowhere near as well as Ty Lee, but at least as good as Azula. And sure enough, as soon as he was back on his feet, Azula was moving to knock him down. But unlike Ty Lee, Azar was prepared for it.

He ducked out of the way, and when Azula overbalanced, he pushed her instead. Azula dropped, rolled, and kicked at his legs. Azar kicked back, but she was already up on her feet again, one fist swinging for him - and grinning wildly. Azula loved a good fight. He batted the punch away, and swung back with one of his own, which she evaded, grabbing hold of his other arm and twisting. Azar tried to kick at her again, then...

“Azula! Azar!” their mother’s angry voice sounded across the gardens.

Azula quickly let him go. “We were just playing, Mom!” she called out innocently.

“Really?” their mother asked skeptically as she strode across the grass towards them. Ty Lee and Mai half bowed as she approached, but her eyes were fixed on Azar.

“Really, Mom,” Azar agreed, ignoring how the arm that Azula had twisted was throbbing. He’d had worse. “It was just a game, honest.”

His mother seemed somewhat mollified by his reassurance, though she did glance at Ty Lee and Mai. They of course both nodded in agreement as well - they would never contradict Azula to her mother, certainly not when Azar backed her up.

“Well I don’t like the look of that game,” their mother finally said. “You shouldn’t play so rough with each other.”

Azula and Azar both nodded obediently and agreed they wouldn’t do it again.

“Anyway,” their mother went on in a happier tone. “I was looking for you because we’ve had a letter from Uncle Iroh, and I wanted to read it with everyone together.” By “everyone” she meant all the children - Azar knew his father never cared what Uncle Iroh wrote in his letters to the family, only what came in the official military reports.

They said goodbye to Mai and Ty Lee and followed their mother out of the garden. Behind her back, Azula gave him one last playful shove, grinning in triumph. But Azar did not retaliate, and only grinned back. After all, she hadn’t knocked him down.

* * *

Uncle Iroh, of course, had sent gifts for all of them.

Azar did not know his uncle particularly well, for he had been away fighting in the Earth Kingdom for over two years now. But he always sent presents for birthdays and New Year’s, and whenever else he felt like it. Some of the gifts were better than others, in Azar’s opinion, but they always made it an exciting event when his letters arrived.

This time, Zuko got the best gift out of all of them - a ceremonial dagger surrendered by an Earth Kingdom general himself. Azar saw Azula eyeing it enviously, even before she received her own far less interesting gift of an Earth Kingdom fashion doll, and he couldn’t blame her. Though he did wonder what either of them would need a knife for, since they both had their firebending.

Azar was about as underwhelmed with his present as Azula had been with hers - a book of Earth Kingdom fairy tales held little interest for him - but he didn’t see the need to make such a fuss about it, and even if he could have, he wouldn’t have done anything so dramatic as set it on fire. Shinzo received a puzzle box of black obsidian stone, which Uncle Iroh’s letter said contained a treasure, probably candy by the sound of it. For Raizu and Denzu, their uncle had sent a pair of cuddly animal toys, one a moose lion and the other a badger mole. The twins, at least, seemed content.

“You’d better watch that knife closely,” Azar warned Zuko as their mother left the room, and Li and Lo took Raizu and Denzu away for their nap. Zuko gave him a strange look, uncomprehending, but Azar didn’t elaborate. If Zuko couldn’t figure out that Azula wanted the knife even with that warning, he’d have to learn the hard way.

“What a waste of time,” Azula scoffed, tossing aside the charred remains of her doll. Shinzo wrinkled his nose as the blackened silk and porcelain landed at his feet. “Uncle’s never going to take Ba Sing Se.”

“It sounds like he’s getting really close,” Zuko argued, holding up his new dagger as proof. “No one’s ever made it through the outer wall before!”

“The outer wall is still miles from the city itself, Zuzu,” Azula said with a superior tone, her hands planted on her hips. Zuko glared in response to the nickname, which only Azula ever dared to call him to his face. Shinzo, who had no interest in arguing military tactics, retreated to the couch, fiddling with his puzzle box.

“But it’s mostly farmland within the outer wall,” Azar pointed out, flipping idly through the pages of his book. The illustrations were cool, he supposed, depicting all sorts of mythical creatures like goblins and lion turtles, but the scrolls of Earth Kingdom geography he’d been reading with his tutor yesterday were more interesting. “The Earth Army will probably fall back to their next line of defenses on the inner walls without much of a fight.”

“True,” Azula admitted begrudgingly. She frowned, considering for a moment, then laughed. “But it took Uncle Fatso two years to get through the outer wall. I doubt he’ll break into the city any faster.”

“I’d like to see anyone else do better,” Zuko defended their uncle. Azar, who was losing interest in this conversation now that it was going to degrade into another spat between Zuko and Azula, went and joined Shinzo on the couch.

“Dad could,” Azula countered, and Azar knew she had him there. “And someday  _ I _ will.”

Zuko had his own retort to their sister’s boast, but Azar merely scoffed to himself.  _ Not without my help, _ he thought.

“Can’t get it to open?” he said aloud to Shinzo instead.

“No,” Shinzo admitted, turning the smooth black stone box over in his hands. It was very finely crafted, with the seams where the pieces met barely visible. Not at all an appropriate gift for a four-year-old, Azar thought. “Maybe it’s broken?” his little brother ventured, shaking it so its contents rattled again.

“Well, this opens just fine,” Azar replied, laying out the fairy tale book on his lap. He turned to the full-page illustration of the lion turtle, and Shinzo’s eyes went wide.

“Woah,” his little brother breathed. “What is that?”

“It’s an ancient Earth Kingdom monster,” Azar replied, leaning in conspiratorially. “This book is full of them…” But then, as if thinking better of it, he pulled back, closing the book. “I’d better not show you. I don’t want you to have nightmares.”

“Aw, come on!” Shinzo whined, grasping for the book, but Azar moved it carefully out of his reach. “I won’t get scared, I promise!”

“It was my gift,” Azar said, holding the book close to his chest protectively. “Uncle Iroh sent it to  _ me _ because he knew I was old enough to handle it.”

“I’m old enough, too!” Shinzo insisted, holding up all the fingers on one hand. “I’ll be five soon!” Azar knew “soon” was an exaggeration - Shinzo’s birthday was still months away - but he tilted his head to one side as if considering this point anyway.

“I guess you’re not  _ such _ a baby anymore,” he said thoughtfully. He laid the book flat in his lap again, still closed, and went on in a regretful tone, “Still, it was my present…”

Shinzo gasped, a brilliant idea evidently having just occurred to him. “I’ll trade you!” he offered, holding out the puzzle box with both hands.

“Are you sure?” Azar asked firmly.

“Yeah, come on!” Shinzo insisted, shaking the box again in his eagerness.

“Oh, well, alright,” Azar relented. Plucking the box from his brother’s hands, he deposited the book in its place. Shinzo immediately opened it and began searching its pages for more monsters, but Azar was already sliding off the couch and stuffing the puzzle box into the front pocket of his tunic.

Zuko and Azula were still sniping at each other, but Azar grabbed Azula’s hand as he made his escape. “Come on, let’s go throw things at Ty Lee,” he said, knowing Azula wouldn’t say no to her favorite game. Ty Lee could dodge anything, whether it was knives, arrows, or fireballs.

Shinzo would figure out eventually that the book wasn’t as exciting as Azar had made it out to be, but his disappointment would be Zuko’s problem to deal with then.

* * *

Later that evening, after he’d gotten washed up but hadn’t been called for dinner yet, Azar lay on his stomach across his bed and got to work on the puzzle box. It was rectangular in shape, smoothly polished, and had panels on both of the short sides that slid back and forth. Each of the sliding pieces raised or lowered the side marginally. Azar figured it was merely a matter of figuring out the right sequence to move the pieces in, and then the top of the box would be free to slide off - assuming there wasn’t some secondary puzzle after that.

He’d been playing with the box for a good fifteen minutes when Azula came into his room without knocking.

“Hey, Zula,” he greeted her absently, sliding another piece on the left side of the box. She got away with calling Zuko by her nickname, and he got away with calling her by his. It probably helped that he never did it in front of anyone else.

“You stole Shinzo’s gift?” Azula asked, coming to stand in front of him. She sounded vaguely impressed.

“Of course I didn’t steal it,” Azar replied, rolling his eyes at her again. “He gave it to me.” He moved another piece on the right side and pushed at the top of the box experimentally, but it still wouldn’t budge.

“Oh,” Azula said, sounding less impressed. She crossed her arms and leaned against the bedpost. “Gave it to you in exchange for what?”

“The fairytale book,” Azar replied, sliding the lowest piece on each side of the box forwards simultaneously. Still no luck, but he felt sure he was getting close…

“I would have just stolen it if I were you,” Azula said, examining her nails. Their mother wouldn’t let her wear nail polish yet, but Azula was still careful to keep her nails otherwise perfectly manicured. “Then you’d have the book and the box.”

“I didn’t want the book, obviously,” Azar shot back. He moved the same two pieces again, but this time the left one forwards and the right one backwards. He pushed at the lid again, and sat up with a cry of triumph as it slid free. “Got it!”

Azula leaned over, clearly interested in what “treasure” the box contained. As Azar had suspected, it turned out to be a handful of licorice candies. He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth, then tossed another to Azula.

Azula caught the licorice easily, then held it up between two fingers. “Taking candy from a baby, brother?” she said ironically.

Azar shrugged. “I’ll give him some later if he asks.” It was the box itself he’d really wanted.

“You’re so generous,” Azula replied in the same ironic tone as she unwrapped her own candy. She chewed it slowly, savoring it - licorice wasn’t her favorite, but Azula did have a sweet tooth. They would of course not be mentioning to their mother that they had been eating candy before dinner.

Azar slid the lid of the box back into place over the rest of the candies, and reset the puzzle. It looked just as smooth and impenetrable as ever, but now that he had cracked it once, he was confident he could open in again in a matter of seconds, when he wanted to.

Then he glanced over at Azula, who was now rolling the licorice wrapper between her fingers thoughtfully. “Don’t try to take the knife from Zuko,” he warned her impulsively.

Azula scoffed, and incinerated the wrapper. “Why do you care?” she said accusingly. “Do you think you can convince him to trade it to you for that stupid box?”

“No,” Azar replied, rolling his own candy wrapper into a ball between his thumb and forefinger and flicking it at her. She shot a little jet of flame at it, incinerating that one as well. “But if you steal it, you know Zuko will just tell Mom, and she’ll make you give it back.” Picking up the puzzle box again, Azar turned it over once in his hands, considering where to put it, then settled for hiding it under his pillow for the time being. “Then you won’t have the knife, and you’ll have gotten in trouble for nothing.”

Azula sighed, pushing herself off the bedpost. “You might be right,” she admitted, pacing the length of his room. “I’ll have to get the knife some other way.”

Sitting up on his knees, Azar grinned. “When we conquer Ba Sing Se someday, I’m sure you can get another general to give you one of your own.”

Azula laughed. “And you can have all the puzzle boxes you want, is that it?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Azar replied with a shrug.

They were called for dinner just then, so they dropped the conversation. It might be a joke between them now, but Azar had every intention of one day leading a great military campaign in earnest - by his sister’s side, of course, but it would be every bit his victory as it was hers, if not more. But puzzle boxes were not what he was hoping to win with his conquests.

They were the last two to enter the dining room, everyone else already having taken their seats, and their father was clearly not happy about having been kept waiting. “Azar,” he said sternly as Azula took her place beside him, and Azar his own spot next to Zuko. “You will come promptly when called next time.” Azula, who had been just as late as he was, got no such scolding.

“Sorry, Dad,” Azar replied, dropping his eyes.

Without even acknowledging the apology, their father turned to Azula and asked her how her firebending lessons had gone that day.


End file.
